


Bonefire

by shoesoftennis



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-23 19:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18556102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shoesoftennis/pseuds/shoesoftennis
Summary: General Remus has exiled himself from his kingdom bearing a humiliating secret. Now, the king and his sister have asked him to return to look after the king's son, a handsome bookworm who is much too young for Remus. Danger and secrets lurk in the dark web of the court, and neither the prince or Remus know how to navigate it, but they must find a way before a necromancer with a passion for dragons destroys their beloved kingdom.





	Bonefire

The road ended in an overgrown briar patch. Snow knitted across their twisting arms, and icicles hung from the tree branches overhead, the darkness of the wood likening them to dragon’s teeth. Remus Vargas broke one tooth off and dug out his hunting knife before beginning to hack away at the frozen ground until he’d carved a deep enough hole. He stuck the icicle into the dirt and covered it until it stood straight.

In the seven years he’d lived out in Wolfwood, he had learned that a long winter’s hunt proved easier after dark with landmarks. He climbed a tree fit for his dense body and crept from treetop to treetop, avoiding the bitter thorns below. Somewhere just beyond him, a stream gurgled and spat. It must be half ice by now, and tonight’s freeze would surely finish the job.

It was his own fault for waiting this long. He knew Wolfwood’s winters closed in fast, and hunting season was impossibly short. Now, he was freezing his balls off in a briar. He had gone deeper into the wood than he’d ever gone before, but there had been nothing in his usual hunting spots, and none of his traps had caught anything.

Thankfully, he had enough cured meats to last him another month or so, but by then, nothing would be out, and whatever food he would find might not yield much. He was glad he had gone out now. It had been a struggle to drag his lazy ass out of bed, but he had managed it for the betterment of his own survival. Still, the hardships he faced out here eclipsed the constant mind games and plots of the royal courts. He would rather fend for himself under the shadow of monstrous mountains than deal with another half-baked plot against the king. The briar would at least eventually come to an end.

And so it did. Remus notched a series of dashes and knots in the last tree trunk, slipping down from it and landing on frosted moss. That babbling stream spat out from under the briar bushes, chunks of ice floating along the determined current. Scraggly bushes faded out into warped trees, their skeletons bare and rattling in the wind.

He crouched between two trees, partially hidden by their drooping snow-laden branches. He readied his bow, picking the string with his finger, so it wouldn’t stiffen. The weak afternoon sunlight soon dimmed, and early evening encroached. Long shadows stretched across the hard ground, reaching for warmth that wasn’t there.

The horizon had been painted with night by the time a buck arrived at the stream, fat and slow on loping hooves. In the waning light, Remus noticed parts of his antlers had broken off, and scars marred his head and fuzzy snout. He was old. Remus could see it in the way the buck lowered his head to drink, unconcerned with the world around him.

Remus notched an arrow, and when the buck looked up, the arrowhead buried itself in his right eye. A quick, clean death. There was beauty in it – in the precision and training it took to fell a veteran as huge as this one. Remus would skin it when he reached the cabin. He didn’t want wolves following him back, and the smell of a fresh kill would certainly peak their interest. He tied the buck’s hind legs to his shoulders and started the long trek back, bracing against the dropping temperatures.

Night had fallen in velvet completeness when Remus saw the outline of his cabin. Cold sweat poured from his forehead when he finally pushed open the door and untied the buck from his back. He laid its body across the table before dragging new logs inside and getting a fire going.

With a crackling fire blooming in his hearth, he stripped down to his underwear and donned a bearskin cloak. Warmth stung his icy skin when he sat in front of the fire just to gain some feeling back in his hands. He had to carve that deer tonight or the meat would be rotten by morning.

Night had fallen in velvet completeness when Remus saw the outline of his cabin. Cold sweat poured from his forehead when he finally pushed open the door and untied the buck from his back. He laid its body across the table before dragging new logs inside and getting a fire going.

With a crackling fire blooming in his hearth, he stripped down to his underwear and donned a bearskin cloak. Warmth stung his icy skin when he sat in front of the fire just to gain some feeling back in his hands. He would have to preserve the meat tomorrow because he was fucking exhausting. He had left during the sun’s zenith and had spent all day in blisteringly cold temperatures, climbing trees and crouching in powdery snow. All he wanted to do was fall into bed and curl up in his blankets.

Once he had thawed, he stood and dressed in dry clothes. He dragged the sled up from the cellar and laid the carcass atop it, tugging it outside and up to the smokehouse. The ice chest lay out front, wrapped with chains and reinforced with an iron lattice.

Remus quickly unlatched it. The chains rattled in the stillness of the night. There was nothing to be heard except the wind whistling through the haunted trees and the soft puff of his own breath billowing like smoke rings from his lips. He could feel his magic stuttering as if it was freezing in his veins. Fresh snow swirled in eddies, crusting his black-and-blue knuckles.

_ Shit. _

He locked the chest as fast as he could, his trembling hands making it all the worse. A hacking cough shattered through his chest, and he gasped for air as he stumbled back to his cabin. He crashed in front of his fire and coughed up phlegm, gasping when he felt the poison recede, his magic building a dam around it once again. When had he become so weak? He used to be able to wipe out legions with a single spell, hunt for days without tiring, and drink anyone under the table. None of that was feasible for him anymore.

He remembered that night. The assassin, pretty as a picture and just as seductive. The wine. Damn, the wine.

But before he could continue to feel sorry for himself, someone pounded on his door. “Brother! I’m freezing my tits off out here! Open the  _ fucking  _ door!” shrieked a very familiar voice.

Remus scrambled to his feet, ripping open the door to reveal his twin sister and her partner – the king – shivering on the porch. “Regina, my king,” Remus stuttered. He stared at them before shuffling back at his sister’s continued protests, allowing them both inside. “Not to sound rude but why the hell are you here?”

“That is rude,” the king said. They smiled dryly and unhooked their cloak.

Regina snorted, stomping up to Remus and flicking his forehead. “We make the journey up here, and that’s all you have to say to us? Gods, the Wolfwood has made you into a real jackass, hasn’t it?”

“If you remember, he’s always been a jackass,” the king chuckled.

Remus rubbed his forehead, pouting. He hadn’t seen his sister or his king in seven years, and now that they were right here in front of him, he had no idea what to say. Thankfully, the king offered him something he knew the answer to. “Where do you hang your cloaks, Remus?” they asked, looking at him with those stone cold green eyes.

“Uh,” he said eloquently, “kind of anywhere.”

“Some things will never change,” Regina said, crossing her arms over her chest and arching an eyebrow.

The king shook their head. “You pretend you two are not exactly the same.”

“I do not leave my cloak just anywhere!”

“When you’re tired, you do. I have found your garments scattered about our corridor, and you never quite explained how they got there.”

Scoffing, Regina slumped in front of the fire, sulking like a scorned child.  _ Well,  _ Remus thought with a fond smile,  _ she hasn’t changed a bit. _

“It was the middle of summer, and it was hot,” Regina whined.

“Excuses, excuses. More likely you were horny and impatient,” Remus said, tweaking Regina’s ear as he bent past her to grab the poker. The fire was flickering, and he didn’t trust himself to relight it. Even that took a significant amount of strength out of him. For the amount of time he’d been here, he had not used much magic, and he missed it. The deep well he used to be able to draw from had all but dried up.

Regina took notice immediately. “What are you doing?” she asked.

He spared her a dull glance. “You don’t want frostbite, do you?”

“No, I mean what are you  _ doing _ ?” Regina gestured to the poker. “Just–” She snapped her fingers, and the flames roared to life, sparks flying.

“Be careful, love. We don’t want the whole house to become a hearth,” the king said. They had folded their cloak carefully and laid it across the back of the sofa. Remus hadn’t seen anything luxurious since he’d left the capital, and now he stared at the cloak, almost salivating. Black velvet lined with wool, crisscrossed with golden thread. Functionality had always been more important to the king than frivolity, and it showed in their simple woolen tunic and straight pants.

What had become of him? He asked himself this every day, but today it felt especially pertinent. His king and his sister were here, and they were bound to ask him to do something. Possibly come back. Remus couldn’t do that; he was a disgrace, brought down by a weaselly courtier and a glass of poisoned wine. For seven years he had dealt with the aftereffects, and nothing had changed. General Remus Vargas of the Four Realms was no more, but he had yet to accept his despairing fate.

“You’re acting strange,” Regina said, looking him up and down. “Have you gone mad?”

“Gods, no, I have not gone mad,” Remus grunted. He replaced the poker and padded over to the cabinet, pulling out a dusty bottle of wine. “Wine to warm you, my king?” He glanced pointedly at the king, ignoring his sister.

The king nodded. They slid onto the sofa and held their arms out to Regina who promptly folded into their body. “Wine sounds lovely,” they said as they stroked Regina’s hair.

Remus poured three glasses, not intending to drink his own. He handed one to Lewellyn and kept the other two, sending a smirk Regina’s way. His sister growled at him and portaled the glass from his hand to hers. “I still use magic,” she teased, winking.

He raised his glass to her. “You also still owe me money, but nobody’s talking about that.”

“Poor brother, out a sixpence.”

“You are a sixpence.”

“Oh my gods,” the king said, rolling their eyes. They took a big swig of wine before pointing at Remus. “You’re upsetting your queen.”

Regina’s lips curled into a self righteous smirk. “Yeah, you’re upsetting your  _ queen _ . You should be bowing to me.”

“Oh, you’re so right,” Remus said, setting his wine down. He knelt in front of Regina and added, “How may I serve you, my favorite bitch?”

The king snorted with laughter, hiding it behind their hand. “That was mean,” they managed to get out but with little condemnation behind it. Regina was trying not to laugh either, and she held it in until she poured her glass of wine over Remus’ head. He let her, resigned to his fate.

“Mean as it may be, you are my favorite bitch, sister,” he said. His tongue was bitter with the taste of his punishment, and he tried to ignore the nostalgia plucking at his heartstrings. He had missed them, his sister and his king. They were all of his good memories. Even in the heat of battle, he remembered them in flashes, clad in shining armor and glittering chainmail. They had all fought side-by-side for years, always having each other’s backs. Remus trusted them like family, but he couldn’t let them see his weakness, his failure. He was nothing more than a common man with a feeble amount of magic and poisoned blood on the verge of killing him every moment of every day.

For eight long years, every magicked part of him had been spent keeping the poison at bay. He had tried to see a healer once, but the bastard had turned out to be a fraud. In a fit of rage, Remus had slit his throat and looted his tent. There was nothing of interest except a moth-eaten book written in an ancient language Remus couldn’t read. With his hope dwindling, the general had decided to isolate himself in the Wolfwood and try to heal himself. Each attempt ended worse than the last. 

He hadn’t asked for help. He had sent no letters to his sister or his king, yet they had found him up here in the dead of night. He should tell them about the poison. They could help, and then he would finally be free. But how weak he would seem. They would taunt him, and he didn’t know if he could handle their teasing – not about this. His pride refused him relief, but he followed its commands without hesitation. That pride had been a long journey as well, and he had survived well enough here that he was warranted secrecy for his darkest humiliation. He should have known the wine was poisoned. It was his fault he was sick, and he hated the idea of admitting his stupidity to the two people who actually cared for him.

“I’m sorry, who’s covered in wine?” Regina said, grinning maniacally. She patted her brother’s head before licking her palm. “Well-aged, I’ll give it that. Now I suggest you wash yourself off, brother. Red isn’t your color.”

Remus took her advice. He headed off to the kitchen after flicking Regina’s forehead as payback and rinsed his face; he took off his shirt and pants, electing to expose himself to the king’s dismay. “You sincerely have not changed,” the king observed, hiding their blushing face in Regina’s shoulder.

“You have never found me attractive. I don’t see the big issue,” Remus said.

“It’s inappropriate,” the king grumbled.

“Oh, Lulu, you’re just so cute,” Regina chuckled, squeezing her lover’s cherry cheeks. 

King Lewellyn smiled at the endearment but swatted Regina’s hand away. They nuzzled into the crook of their wife’s neck to further avoid catching sight of Remus’ nearly bare body. They had despised nudity for as long as Remus could remember, and he still found it charming. When he and the king had first met, he had swore to himself he would wed them. However, it became painfully clear in the first few years of his and his sister’s service in the royal guard, that King Lewellyn much preferred Regina. 

With a start, Remus realized that while so much had changed in the several years they had known each other, some things had stayed wholly the same. But as he watched his king and his sister exchange a tender kiss, he realized something else. “Why are you here? Who did you leave in charge of the throne?” he asked.

Lewellyn blinked up at him in surprise. “You don’t know?”

“I don’t… know what?” Remus said, taken aback. How much could have changed in the years he’d been gone? Were they overtaken? Was that why they were here? He quieted his storming mind, refusing to believe anything that terrible had happened in his absence.

“My son’s coronation was two months ago,” Lewellyn said.

Remus’ mouth fell open. That scrawny little kid had been crowned king? Remus remembered him hiding behind Lewellyn’s robes, looking sickly and pale. He had reminded Remus of a pup that hadn’t been properly fed, and Lewellyn couldn’t be blamed for that. They had taken care of the boy since the onset of their pregnancy at nineteen. It was an immaculate conception, the priests claimed. The king had never once taken a man since they and Regina had began courting three years prior. The kingdom had hailed Lewellyn’s pregnancy as a blessing, but it had become clear in the months leading up to the boy’s birth, the gods were punishing the king who should be queen. Why the gods cared, Remus would never understand. However, Lewellyn had done their best to care for the boy.

Now, the kid had finally taken the throne. He was Remus’ king now, not Lewellyn. Remus snorted at the notion. “He’s so… small,” he said, trying his damnedest not to offend Lewellyn.

Lewellyn glanced at him, more puzzled than irritated. “He’s twenty-one years old, Remus,” they said. “I wouldn’t exactly call him little, if that was what you were implying.”

Fucking hell, the kid was already twenty-one? Had Remus really not seen him for nine years? He rubbed a hand through his hair and said, “Oh. I didn’t realize how much time had passed since I last saw him.”

“Where did he go, Remus?” Regina asked, raising an eyebrow tauntingly. “He left when he was twelve, do you remember where he went?”

Remus did not, and why should he? It wasn’t his child. He had had two of his own, one at seventeen and the other at nineteen with his late wife. The eldest had decided to learn from the royal tailor and went off on his way a few months before the incident. The youngest Remus had sent off to boarding school as quickly as possible, only allowing him to come home during summer break. It seemed cruel, but Remus had no desire to be around him; the boy looked identical to his dear Vittoria.

He had buried her when Lewellyn had given birth to their son. Perhaps that was the reason he had taken so little interest in the boy.

“Have you heard from either Flavio or Luciano?” Remus asked, ignoring his sister. “I haven’t seen either of them in a while.”

“Not Luciano,” Regina said, her voice hard. She glared up at Remus, and he raised her an eyebrow.

“What?”

Regina shook her head, her hands curling into white-knuckled fists. A vein popped out of her neck, and Remus wondered what the hell he’d done to warrant her wrath. “Nothing. We have other matters to discuss with you right now,” she muttered. “We need you to drag your sorry ass out of retirement and watch over Arthur while we take a needed vacation.”

This was what they’d come all the way here for? They wanted him to watch over the brat while they went on  _ vacation _ ? He crossed his arms over his chest and squared his broad shoulders. “Why the hell would I want do that? I like it up here, and I’m tired of that damned court,” he said.

“We know,” Lewellyn cut in before Regina could say anything inciting. “Which is why, if you agree to watch over my son, I will give you Lord Honda’s land. I have been holding onto it since he was exiled a few years after you left, so I can assure you it has been well maintained. Will you consider coming out of retirement now?”

Remus narrowed his eyes, glancing between the both of them. “Why did you come all the way here?” he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

“We wanted to make sure you actually went if you agreed,” Lewellyn said, their piercing eyes staring point blank into Remus’ soul. Gods, he hated when they did that. Staring them down was like staring down the universe itself. “We know how you are,” Lewellyn added as an afterthought.

“Fair enough,” he grumbled because in all honesty, he would not have gone. He would have walked onto his new land a month later and dealt with Lewellyn when they came to yell at him. 

He glanced around at his cabin. He would miss the specks of crusted blood on the countertop he could never quite scrape off, the warm hearth, the solitude. With a sigh, he sat beside his sister and former king, crossing his legs under him. “I was planning on smoking a deer tomorrow, so we can’t leave until I have enough provisions,” he said. This, of course, was not true. He had plenty of money hidden under his mattress and in various cupboards and loose floorboards about the cabin, but he wished to stall their journey. He couldn’t simply pack up and leave this place behind. Despite himself, he had grown attached to it and needed time to say goodbye. 

“Then we leave the day after tomorrow,” Lewellyn said.

Regina heaved out a ragged breath. “Thank fuck, I actually get to sleep in a real bed tonight,” she said.

Whatever tension lingered between them vanished with that. Lewellyn and Remus both laughed, and Lewellyn pecked her wife affectionately on the cheek. “That’s your biggest worry, hmm?” they teased.

“I want to get a good night’s rest. We’ve been on the road for three weeks, and we haven’t stayed at one inn where comfort was anywhere near the top list of priorities,” Regina said, draping a hand across her forehead for dramatic effect. “Alas, now I won’t be woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of vomiting bar patrons.”

“It’s really a travesty,” Remus said, playing along.

“Isn’t it, though?” Regina said.

Another chorus of laughter stoked the fire in the hearth. The flames danced, stretching towards the sounds of their voices, glowing in the cabin’s windows. Outside, a gentle flurry of snow began to fall, and the wind quieted to a soothing hush.

**Author's Note:**

> These original characters are loosely based off of 2p hetalia and hetalia characters, and when I say loosely, I mean my girlfriend and I have turned them into entirely original characters. However, the names have stuck. Enjoy! And if you feel obliged, leave comments! Please, be nice!


End file.
